


you make me feel so weak

by therjolras



Category: Halsey (Musician), Pop Music RPF, Taylor Swift (Musician)
Genre: 5+1 Things, Bisexual Female Character, Canon Bisexual Character, F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-03
Updated: 2015-07-03
Packaged: 2018-04-07 09:34:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,731
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4258350
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/therjolras/pseuds/therjolras
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Her hands are clammy as she gets ready to take the stage, something that’s rare as it is-- she’s drawn to that stage like a magnet-- but during those breathless moments in the wings, when she’s waiting for her cue and trying to quell the ball of nerves in her stomach, she finds herself looking for something or someone in what she can see of the crowd. A head of blonde hair, if she’s not kidding herself. Blonde hair and a smart red mouth and a magnetism about her that’s dragging Ashley places she really doesn’t want to be.</p>
            </blockquote>





	you make me feel so weak

**Author's Note:**

> KUDOS TO SOFI WHO BETAED THIS AND ALSO TO ELLEN WHO IS MY SWIFTIPANE CO-CAPTAIN  
> this was awesome and really fun and there really should be more Ashley/Taylor out there. fulfilling my own wish with this or something. anyway, enjoy! feel free to leave feedback or angry letters in the comments. title from trouble by halsey.

The first time, it’s at the iHeart or Lollapalooza or somewhere like that, and maybe Michael invited her or or maybe she’s playing that night, or maybe she’s playing tomorrow night, but she’s weaving through the party with a beer bottle slowly turning her hand numb when she sees a head of blonde hair across the crowd. Several things whizz through her mind: a slew of nasty words she wishes she could take back, a glimmer of admiration for a girl who made an industry _hers,_ a bit of curiosity, a memory: talking with Michael months ago about pop’s favorite power couple. Michael had sworn he’d sleep with either of them. Both of them. He actually _had_ slept with Harry, a fact she was still jealous of.

Ashley downs the rest of her beer and goes for it.

Taylor Swift is talking to Florence Welch, who’s also pretty amazing. Ashley tries to think of something clever to say-- _I’m a huge fan, sorry I talked smack about you on the internet that one time, so Hi I think we’re peers now or something?_ \-- but all that comes out, when _Taylor Fucking Swift_ turns around with a greeting in her blue eyes, is “Hi, I guess.”

Taylor grins. “Hi. Ashley, right?”

“Occasionally,” Ashley replies. Taylor nods and quickly introduces her to Florence, because it’s only polite. Ashley compliments Florence’s dress (it looks like a fairy-tale dress). Florence thanks her and excuses herself with a wink at Taylor. Ashley’s alone with Taylor Fucking Swift-- sort of. She opens her mouth to say something clever and Taylor blurts out, “I like your hair.”

Ashley touches the ends, semi-consciously, with her fingertips. “Thanks. I like yours, too.”

Taylor smiles. She’s not wearing The Lipstick, and her mouth looks a bit smaller without it, but her smile is beautiful. Ashley smiles back. And in that moment someone appears, seeking attention because Taylor’s everything, really, who can deny it, and Ashley shifts back into the crowd but she catches Taylor’s eye before she goes and waves goodbye.

Taylor smiles and waves back.

 

==

 

The second time is at Michael’s twentieth birthday. It’s a real shindig this year, the first time 5SOS has had the time, and Taylor isn’t entirely sure how she made the guest list but it’s a good party. Maybe they’re paying her back for her 25th. Of course, Harry’s there, taking the ‘cool’ factor down a little, and Taylor’s hanging out by the bar to try and avoid him (in a casual way). He’s cool to watch, though, especially seeing as all the other fractions of 1D are there too. It’s probably the first ‘casual’ place all five of them have been since the breakup.

A shift, a cascade of purple. Taylor turns and finds herself looking at Hals--Ashley. She’s wearing her bluey-purple hair loose and it looks darker in the dim light; her dress, though, is all glitter like a wearable disco ball and it catches every light.

Before Taylor can compliment it Ashley says, “You, too?”

Taylor frowns. Ashley points in Harry’s direction; he’s dancing with Ella, looking perfectly cheerful. Ashley says, “The whole lowkey-avoiding-your-ex thing. Ashton’s been pulling it on me for years, one’d think he’d be over it by now. So, you too?”

“I guess,” Taylor says although her mind’s already jumped to Ashley stringing _Ashton_ and _ex_ together in the same sentence. “You two--”

“Me and Ash? Old news,” Ashley replies dismissively. “We slept together a few times, but I could tell he was kind of invested in someone else so I broke it off. I’m still not sure he knows where his heart actually is, honestly.” Taylor snorts. “I know the type.”

“Not including yourself?” Ashley says. Taylor takes a drink. “I always know what I want.”

Ashley’s eyebrows-- mousey brown, not blue-- go up, and Taylor remembers: _bisexual_. She feels her face warm up. Ashley grins like she can see it. “Does what you want,” she says coyly, “By any chance involve another drink?”

“Why not?” Taylor says, draining her glass and offering it to Ashley. Ashley takes it, winks, and waves the bartender over. As they start talking, Taylor’s phone buzzes. Most of her contacts were muted before she even got out of the car this evening; of the few that are left, half of them are here. Taylor pulls her phone from her pocket and checks: it’s a text from Karlie, and it reads 911 PICK UP UR PHONE AND ATTEND A CRISIS SWIFT. Across the room, Ella is nowhere to be seen. Probably already got the message. Taylor pockets the phone and turns to Ashley, taps her gingerly on the shoulder. Ashley turns. Taylor says, “I’m so sorry, I’ve got a Thing-- possibly an emergency. Um, rain check on our drink?” She pulls a face, an apologetic cringe-y face that must look ridiculous but she hopes at least gets the point across. It must work, because Ashley winces. “Yeah, sure,” she says. “See you around?”

“Yeah, definitely,” Taylor says, because she can’t help it, Ashley’s magnetic in the way many of her best friends are and she doesn’t think she could stay away if she tried. “And, um, I love your dress.”

Ashley grins. She’s still grinning as Taylor murmurs a goodbye and ducks through the crowd, tells Michael _thanks_ and _I gotta run_ , turns back toward the bar and waves. Ashley waves back.

===

 

The third time doesn’t really count as a meeting at all, more just an encounter that might have been. Ashley’s at the Billboards, the god-honest BBMAs, because she’s making her way up in the world, and somehow she’s been seated in the same niche as Taylor and The Squad. On her left is Lorde-- _Ella_ , the younger girl said, and she said _Ashley_ in return, the peril of simple stage names-- and Lena Dunham’s on her other side, chatting with someone Ashley doesn’t recognize. She’s grateful, because she’s not entirely sure if she likes Lena yet. Taylor’s in the front row between Karlie Kloss and two up-and-comers some tabloid or other mentioned as the band she’s ‘mentoring’. At one point, when 5SOS gets up and plays their set-- their new single, another rollicking party anthem with a beat that goes straight to Ashley’s hips-- Taylor’s head turns toward her. Their eyes meet.

Taylor smiles.

 

And yeah, maybe later Ashley’s thinking about Taylor’s smug red smile later in an intimate moment, long after she’s caught the first plane out to catch up with the tour. That’s nothing new, not by a long shot. Blank Space, the Victoria’s Secret shows, a couple of her sleeker red carpet looks, her _stage presence_ , and maybe the way she arched her eyebrows when Ashley offered her a drink at Michael’s party… Maybe Michael spoke for both of them.

What’s new is farther along the road, after the far-too-abrupt plane ride out, after Luke sends her a string of sad-face emojis and the additional comment of we missed you @ the party,  after the Intimate Moment, she’s listening to Love Story on the bus and she thinks of Taylor’s blue eyes in the dim light of Michael’s birthday party, when she complimented Ashley’s dress and her smile at the BBMAs when she sought Ashley out.

And Ashley thinks, _huh_.

and, _oh, fuck_.

and, _It could be worse_?

 

==

 

The fourth time, and yeah maybe she’s keeping track, everyone else is apparently already doing it for her, begins when Ella is sitting across from her backstage at Jimmy Fallon and keeps snickering at her phone. Just, repeatedly. Type type, pause, snicker. Snicker, type type, snicker again. Taylor eventually puts her book down and says, “Who are you texting?” Out of exasperation.

“Ashley. Halsey,” Ella replies. Taylor says, “I know who Ashley is. You’ve got her number?”

“I sat by her at the Billboards, remember?” Ella says. “She passed it on before she had to bail. She played that show in Brazil the next night, yeah?”

“I knew she bailed early,” Taylor says. “Never knew why.” Ella’s eyebrows disappear into her curls (not unusually) at the comment. “Is that disappointment I hear, Swift?”

“Lay off,” Taylor says. “Maybe. What are you guys talking about? Can I ask?”

“She’s complaining about the 5SOS guys, I’m complaining about you,” Ella says, glancing at her phone again. “She’s like, the best sarcastic person I know. Besides us.” She gestures between them. Taylor says, “Glad to know my position is secure.”

Ella rolls her eyes. “Tell you what, if you’re so curious, text her yourself.” She types for about three seconds, and Taylor’s phone buzzes with a text from her. Ten digits. Ella adds, “You’re welcome,” and snickers again. Taylor goes back to her book. She’s on twenty minutes later, after Ella’s played half her set (amazing as always).

On the plane, she adds the number Ella sent her to her contacts under _Ashley Frangipane_. In the dressing room the next afternoon, while her opener’s squabbling on the phone with 5SOS next door (Taylor _knew_ introducing them was a bad idea), Taylor pulls up the number and sends an awkward preliminary text.

it’s Taylor. Ella gave me your # b/c apparently I’m obsessing or somth. promise I’m not creeping _._

It’s a few minutes before Ashley texts back, and Taylor takes the time to check on where Ashley actually is right now. As it turns out she’s in London, according to Twitter, with a show both of the next two nights. Taylor’s got a show tonight, but her tomorrow’s free; she wonders if she could get away with getting out for tomorrow. Maybe she can meet Ed, make a date of it.

Next door Nellie shouts, “AWWW,” like a 5-year-old, followed by, “PULL YOURSELF TOGETHER, MAN,” in a horrible Scottish accent. Taylor hopes someone will smack her next time she suggests taking that kid on a world tour. Also, the dressing rooms need thicker walls. Her phone buzzes, and when Taylor looks at it-- with a speed perfectly justified, _thank you_ \-- she sees it’s a reply from Ashley. is cool. ella warned me you’d try something like this eventually lol

While Taylor is trying to come up with a witty comeback Ashley adds, _been a while, yeah?_

Taylor texts back, yeah. it was nice seeing you at the BBMAs, tho.

You too. What happened at mikey’s party that had you take off? Booty call?

Taylor snorted. no, nothing that frivolous. Danielle - Haim- got dumped. It was all hands on deck.

Ouch. I getcha. There’s a short pause after the reply, but the activity bar tells Taylor Ashley’s still typing. After a long moment she says,

we still on rain check?

Because Taylor’s a giant nerd and keeps track, she knows that Ashley’s referring to Taylor putting a raincheck on their drink at Michael’s party, almost a year before. She wonders what it means that Ashley remembers too. She begins to type in a reply: actually…

 

==

 

It’s the fifth meeting. Ashley is… not too good. Kind of really effing nervous, actually. Backstage is way too effing small and her clothes are too tight and she’s really just a mess of nerves with good fashion sense, but that’s usually a look she can work with. Somehow, tonight ‘she can work with it’ just doesn’t cut it. Her hands are clammy as she gets ready to take the stage, something that’s rare as it is-- she’s drawn to that stage like a magnet-- but during those breathless moments in the wings, when she’s waiting for her cue and trying to quell the ball of nerves in her stomach, she finds herself looking for something or someone in what she can see of the crowd. A head of blonde hair, if she’s not kidding herself. Blonde hair and a smart red mouth and a magnetism about her that’s dragging Ashley places she really doesn’t want to be.

Yeah, maybe Ashley’s totally gone. That doesn’t usually mean she can’t play it cool.

( _Play it cool? What’s that?_ )

She saunters onto the stage like she was born there, like everything’s perfectly fine, and for a while she accomplishes something: she drowns her attention in the music, putting everything into putting on a show. Her eyes might drift around during the set, picking the audience apart section by section, but it doesn’t mean anything-- not until she’s starting Trouble, in the last quarter of the show, and finds a pair of blue eyes just to her left below the stage.

And her gaze doesn’t break, there in the dark tiny venue, as Ashley sings about smoking and trouble and dirty sex in her best voice just for that thoughtful red smile.

Afterwards Ashley texts Taylor with postshow-sweaty hands, inviting her backstage, and she tells security to watch out for a universally recognized blonde, and she takes a quick shower in the venue-supplied facilities because no way in hell is she meeting Taylor all hot-messy. She returns to her dressing room fully dressed, brushing out her wet hair, and finds Taylor-- and Taylor’s opener and Ed Sheeran-- chitchatting with Ashley’s manager. They all turn at the opening and closing of the door, and Taylor’s opener-- who Taylor might have called Nellie-- jumps to her feet. Then she goes pink and sits down again, punctuated by an awkward “Hi.”

“Hi,” Ashley says. “Taylor, I guess you brought the party with you?”

“Oh, Ed and I ran into each other,” Taylor says quickly. Ed Sheeran waves, looking sheepish. Taylor adds, “I brought Nellie, but I’m not sure she counts.”

Nellie wrinkles her nose at Taylor and says in a Very Sarcastic Voice, “I say ‘no’ to a drink and suddenly I’m a boring vegan mom or some shit. I’m outta here-- Sheeran, you in?”

Ashley suspects that nothing but a preliminary discussion could get two people out of a room that fast. Ed kisses Taylor on the cheek and promises to see her later in the month, tells Ashley it was nice (“lovely”) to meet her, and ambles out; Nellie winks at Taylor and compliments Ashley’s set (“I love the glitter, by the way, it brings everything together really well, it was totally cool to run into you”) and follows Ed out. The door snaps shut behind them and Ashley and Taylor are left looking at each other, both evidently unsure of what just happened.

“So,” Taylor says.

Ashley says, “Wanna go get a drink?” Because it’s nice, it’s chiastic or however you’d say it, it resolves good. And Taylor nods, her eyes lighting up a bit, and Ashley drops her brush and pushes her hair back. “Has that guy Ed given you any good references in london, by any chance? ‘Cause I got nothing.”

Taylor says thoughtfully, “How about a night in?”

 

Ashley-- conveniently-- has a hotel room that evening. She and Taylor bundle into a van as Taylor texts El (she holds out her phone as they pull into traffic, showing Ashley a conversation that consists of Taylor conveying information and El replying “GOOD” in capital letters after each statement) and they drive the endless couple of miles to the hotel in comfortable silence. A couple members of Taylor’s looming, cheery security detail escort them in through the garage to avoid any scenes, which Ashley appreciates. She’s got the nagging suspicion that a headline like “HALSEY IN SORDID LOVE AFFAIR WITH TAYLOR SWIFT?” would somewhat botch her chances, slim as they are.

 

Taylor gets her security a room on the same floor as Ashley’s, through some magic, and Ashley breaks open the minibar as Taylor kicks off her murder weapon heels and sits on the bed. It’s the only proper furniture in the room, which takes the awkward factor down a bit, but Ashley still feels an anticipatory thrill as she settles on the duvet next to Taylor and offers her a drink.

“So,” Taylor says.

“So,” Ashley says. “How’s work coming?”

Taylor scoffs, taking the bottle from Ashley and taking a swig. “You didn’t get me up to your room to talk about work, Ash.”

“Tch. That’s just foreplay,” Ashley replies, a bit pleased when Taylor goes pink and a bit relieved when she doesn’t immediately bail.

She does pause for a moment, though, chewing thoughtfully on her bright red lower lip. When she speaks-- thoughtful, hesitant-- Ashley realizes Taylor’s amping up for what might be an awkward confession.

“How did you realize you were bisexual?”

Ah. Ouch. That one’s a doozy.

“I’ve been kissing girls since high school,” Ashley replies. “I guess it kind of just… happened. I guess it’s not that easy for all of us?”

Taylor exhales. “Not really, no.” There was a millisecond in the middle when her shoulders had tensed up, uneasy, possibly quite frankly terrified; Ashley has to admit it’s not a look she ever expected to see on Taylor, and she’s relieved when it dissipates. She leans into Taylor’s shoulder, trying to frame herself as a comforting presence.

“Hey,” she says. “It’s all good. This is a safe place.” She gestures around them, trying to communicate with flamboyance how much of a safe place it is, and Taylor smiles.

“Thanks, Ash,” she says. “Sorry you made me question my sexuality.”

“Nothing to apologize for,” Ashley says. “My massive crush on you, in fact, feels flattered.” It does. She’s internally freaking out. One person at least has to remain calm in a Situation, though, and seeing as there’s only two of them Ashley will freak out later.

Taylor looks at her wide-eyed, her lips parting the tiniest, beautifulest bit, and Ashley kind of anticipated they might kiss or something when Taylor remarked about the questioning-sexuality thing but daring-to-hope-Taylor-Swift-might-kiss-her isn’t really in her general vocabulary.

Man, she wishes.

Kissing Taylor is fireworks and scalding hot coffee loaded to the max with sugar; kissing Taylor is a heart attack and a heart jump-started back again. They’re the lucky pair that hasn’t taken that many breaks from kissing over the years, back and forth between flings, and experience shows through. Taylor’s mouth moves against Ashley’s gently, fiercely, insistently; one hand traces Ashley’s jaw, another finds its way to her waist, tracing one thumb ever-so-gently over Ashley’s skin, sending goosebumps up her spine. She finds herself gasping against Taylor’s mouth, reaching to tug the other girl into her lap; Taylor complies, and a moment later Taylor’s straddling Ashley’s hips and looming over her, exploring her mouth like it’s a forgotten masterpiece and Taylor’s the expert on restoration. Ashley decides to do some exploration of her own, trailing her fingers under the hem of Taylor’s shirt and brushing the skin.

The sound that makes its way up Taylor’s throat is so close to a cat’s that it startles Ashley into a laugh. The kiss breaks as she dissolves into giggles, and Taylor follows suit; Ashley can barely stop long enough to poke her in the stomach and accuse her of spending too much time with four-leggers.

“You’re such a _dork_ ,” she adds. Taylor rolls her eyes and presses another brief kiss to Ashley’s  mouth, pulling away to rub at her lipstick. The act of making out has smudged much of it away, leaving just a few flecks of red behind, stark against kiss-swollen pink. Ashley thinks again, very briefly, how beautiful Taylor is. Then she looks away.

Taylor clears her throat. “Um.”

“Um?” Ashley says, looking back at Taylor. Taylor bites her lip, looks away.

“Um,” she says, “I’ve got stuff in the morning. Gotta-get-back-on-the-road stuff.”

Ashley nods. “I do too.” It’s not like it’s a disappointment or anything-- because it kind of is, she wants to keep herself and Taylor in this room for the rest of their natural lives, she wants to grow old with Taylor in this room and kiss her until their lips are old and wrinkly.

(But of course, that sort of plan isn’t very sound for normal people, let alone two girls who’ve got world tours in the morning and whirlwind lives ahead. ‘Settle Down’: not an option.)

Taylor pokes her. She snaps back into focus to find Taylor looking at her with a Very Serious expression, repeating the action of chewing unsubtly on her bottom lip. “Um,” she says, “Next time, drinks are on me?”

By way of a reply, drunk on hope, Ashley kisses her again. And Taylor-- to her relief-- kisses back.

 

==

 

Bonus round: it’s their anniversary. They’ve been a pair for a year today (not that anyone knows but them and their crews, and possibly Nellie, who made a good deal of noise just in time for them to stop kissing before she barrelled in, and the squad, which essentially means that a lot of people know but the public hopefully doesn’t.), but Ashley’s in Amsterdam for a festival and Taylor’s in New York recording. The time difference is shit.

“ _Hey_ ,” Ashley says. “ _How’s the south treating you, babe_?”

“This is about as much the south as Amsterdam is, Ash,” Taylor replies, slouching down in front of the screen. Ashley’s monitor jostles again. She’s in stage clothes, and her mouth is painted a striking purple; she’s skyping from her phone, in the few minutes before the show starts and Taylor can get away for “lunch”. “How’re you doing?”

“ _Doing great. I’m pumped_ ,” Ashley says. “ _The crowd’s raring-- Fall Out Boy just got off, and we’re just in the last quarter. There’s Florence and Mali-Koa still to go_.”

“They’re gonna tear it up,” Taylor says, and quickly adds, “You are too.”

“ _Hell yeah I am_ ,” Ashley says. “ _But hey, I’ve gotta get over there. I’ll call you later, yeah_?”

“Promise?”

“ _Promise_ ,” Ashley says. “ _Even if it’s two am and I hate us both. See you soon_.”

“See you as soon as this is over, you mean?” Taylor says.

“ _Definitely. I’ll fly out right away. Promise_.”

“Love you, Ash.”

Ashley smiles, just the one corner of her mouth, the secretly squealing-and-jumping-up-and-down smile. Taylor should reconsider her terminology-- she’ll probably go out on stage and squeal something about _Taylor Swift said she loved me_!

Well. It’s not like it’s untrue or anything.

“Hey,” She says, as Ashley opens her mouth to say goodbye. “Whenever you’re ready, we can take this public. And stuff.”

Ashley grins. “ _Sounds awesome, babe. Love you too. Okayokay I gotta run-- Bye_!”

The screen shuts off, and Taylor feels herself mirror Ashley’s parting smile.

Life, she thought, was good.


End file.
